Perfect Calm
by rawrrkitty
Summary: One moment he's here, the next he is not. And dreams are simply dreams. SLASH.


**Disclaimer: CATS? I don't own – who really believes that an uninspiring girl like me owns something like CATS anyway? XD**

**Right, so. Those who know me well will know that a sudden love for Pouncival/Tumblebrutus sprung up from nowhere inside of rawrrkitty's rawrr-ish heart. Thus, here is a fic of that pairing. :O It's a sort of a… well, a prequel to another fic I have in mind.**

**By the way, I'm going away for ten days. I won't be able to update stuff or anything. Sorry. :/  
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**Please excuse the vagueness. It's currently 3 in the morning, I wrote this while extremely tired and I also happened to write it on my iPod. Also, it's actually a dream, so. Yeah. Enjoy…?**

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**Perfect Calm  
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_The air is thick. _

It is thick with heat, with emotion, with Tumblebrutus' constant, heavy breathing. He isn't sure where he is, but at the same time, he knows. He knows with perfect clarity. The thick air is almost... refreshing.

And even though it should be blindingly obvious that Tumblebrutus is dreaming, the thought does not occur to him. It will only strike him as obvious when he awakes from the thick air. For now, he is content to stay wrapped in the heat, in these familiar arms.

Though he really shouldn't know, he knows without a doubt who these arms belong to. Coarse fur pressed against Tumblebrutus' own soft fur. He vaguely registers fingertips skimming across his soft, soft fur in an almost reverent way and finds it pleasant.

"Pouncival, where have you been?" Tumblebrutus murmurs. "I missed you."

"I'm with you," Pouncival breathes. "I'm still here..."

Tumblebrutus nods. As long as the lingering imprint of Pouncival's memory remains with Tumblebrutus, they are together. And though it's nothing to this holding each other like this, they are together.

Does Pouncival truly exist? He does, as long as Tumblebrutus can see him here.

"How's Jemima?" Pouncival murmurs, his face suddenly very close to Tumblebrutus' ear. His voice is strangely nonchalant. He pauses, then breezes his lips across Tumblebrutus' neck.

"Ah, I... Jemima? Yes, we're getting mated in something like a week." Pouncival's lips, ghosting down the line of his chin. Tumblebrutus leans into the embrace a little. "I wish you were still here, Pouncival. I'd like you to see me getting mated."

"I'm here," Pouncival whispers breathily. "Can you see me?"

Tumblebrutus can. Pouncival is coated in a scattering of dust - he has been left untouched, unseen for so long. Tumblebrutus isnt sure what Pouncival looks like, but he can see Pouncival in perfect clarity.

"I can see you," Tumblebrutus replies simply.

"Hear me?"

Tumblebrutus closes his eyes. His hearing is full of sharp definition. He hears Pouncival sigh through barely parted lips, hears the rustle of fur moving against fur. He feels that he can almost hear the emotion gathering around their calm.

"Yes."

"Smell me?"

Scent has always left a strong imprint on Tumblebrutus. Pouncival has a scent that is very _Pouncival_. It reminds Tumblebrutus of cheeky, crooked smiles and laughter that comes straight from the heart. He presses his face deeper into Pouncival's coarse fur and inhales. To Tumblebrutus, Pouncival smells like kittenhood, lazy days of games and not caring.

"Y-yes..."

"Feel me?"

Tumblebrutus can certainly feel Pouncival. They're pressed tightly together, chest to chest, limbs tangled, tails entwined together. Pouncival is rough and feels a little lost, and he is a very familiar, unfamiliar Pouncival that makes Tumblebrutus feel as if he's home in the house of a stranger. He digs his fingers a little deeper into Pouncival's warm fur, fur as warm and thick as the air enveloping them. Pouncival nibbles on a spot beside Tumblebrutus' collarbone and he can certainly feel that.

"Yes," he breathes, pulling Pouncival towards him by a firm grip on the soul.

"...Taste me?"

Yes, Tumblebrutus can taste Pouncival, but he has no opportunity to affirm this. Pouncival's lips are dry but very warm. Tumblebrutus doesn't mind the cracked feel of them at all. He memorizes the ridges, the splits, the way they fit very easily against his own wet lips. Pouncival is gripping the back of Tumblebrutus' head very tightly, tugging him closer. Tumblebrutus has a firm hold on Pouncival too, for he feels as if he might float away.

Pouncival's lips part slightly and he whispers against Tumblebrutus' own lips. Tumblebrutus feels the movement of his tongue, the vibrations of his voice passing through his lips. "Do you taste me?" Pouncival's tongue, flickering slightly against Tumblebrutus' lips. A shudder of - joy? "I taste _you_," Pouncival whispers. It is all sensual, their emotions humming between them.

Tumblebrutus does not feel the need to speak when Pouncival pulls back, regarding him lazily through half-lidded eyes. He knows his breathing is quick and uneven and doesn't bother to hide it. Pouncival is the picture of perfect calm.

"I am here," he says simply.

One minute he is, but the next he is not. Tumblebrutus is awoken by the sound of singing, of words leaving lips in a simple melody. He smiles slightly, knowing Jemima is up. He feels her lips fleetingly on his -

And the dream is but a dream.


End file.
